


It Could Be Good

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, I guess I could mention they’re archeologists searching for atlantis, Pure Smut, Slightly Dub Con, but really...who cares?, sex in a tent on a beach—what else do you need?, soulmate coupling—a euphemism for smut, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22702825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: Sent in search of a lost city, Hermione and Draco fall under the spell of elemental magic in ways neither expected but both welcomed.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 196
Collections: Strictly Dramione Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange Fest





	It Could Be Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/gifts).



> This is a gift for Weestarmeggie. I tried incorporate all of your prompt words and tropes, so I hope you like it!
> 
> Beta love to Bailey4047, who always saves me last minute.

“I need to know that there is absolutely no physical attraction between the two of you,” Gibbard pressed sternly, a wrinkle developing between his brows.

As the Head of the Archaeological Artifacts Department, it was Roman Gibbard’s responsibility to devise a strong team of magical archeologists to take on new tasks. According to his speech on the “Possibilities of Atlantis,” he had hand-selected Hermione and Draco to pair up and visit the island of Crete in search of the Lost City. 

Reports had filtered in from the Greek Ministry that Muggles were seeing “strange, tailed creatures in the water,” and experiencing “strong, foreboding feelings where the ground sinks in.” They were refusing to visit the far side of the island any longer out of sheer terror. The locals blamed Apollyon and attended special church services to pray the phenomena away.

Though Hermione found Atlantis to be little more than a legend—and Draco didn’t seem to put much more stock into such fancies—Gibbard believed wholeheartedly that the city of treasures existed at some point in history. Next to her, Draco rapped his knuckles twice against the tabletop before sitting leisurely back in his chair. “None whatsoever. We can do this.”

“Hermione? This could be dangerous if either of you are lying. The magic on the island is wild and can cause... _ adverse  _ reactions.”

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. While she was certain her briefly obsessive crush on him had ended, there were times when his smile still brought butterflies to her belly and heat between her legs. Draco tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing across his lips the longer the silence stretched without her answer.  _ Bollocks.  _ She couldn’t readily announce that his half-smiles were enough to have her fingers slipping within her knickers on a particularly lonely night. “Of course there’s no attraction between us. We’re co-workers and nothing more.”

A look of relief crossed Gibbard’s face as the tension fell from his shoulders. “Excellent. You leave tomorrow. I’ll work on getting you the portkey.”

“How long is this expedition? How long are you giving us to find something?” Hermione questioned, poising to sign the bottom of Gibbard’s mission statement.

“Report back here in one week with any findings. As a department, we will sift through all notes and listen to everything you have to tell us. At that point, we will make a determination as to whether further studies are required or if this is merely an incident of superstitious locals.” 

Hermione passed Draco the quill and he crafted a perfect specimen of penmanship as he signed his name. “I’m certain there is a more feasible explanation.”

Gibbard’s face contorted into a frown and he snatched the parchment from his hand, tearing the corner. He huffed as he signed the third line, smearing Draco’s name slightly. “There is more than enough evidence to support the existence of Atlantis. Now it’s all about location and with all of the hectic energy flowing through the west end of Crete, it is a very real possibility this could be it. Our whole lives would be set if this pans out. If the two of you find Atlantis, I will personally see to it that you are permanently aligned as partners. You will lead the department in my stead, as I will be accepting a position with the Greek Ministry.”

Leave it to Gibbard to be more interested in the potential fame than in the historical contributions to be made. Draco leaned up from his chair, pushing off from the wooden arms. “If we’re done here, I’d like to go ahead and begin packing.”

“Accommodations will be sparse, so pack lightly.”

That statement typically meant that they were staying in a hostel-like room with five other archaeologists, shoulder to shoulder in sleeping bags. Surprisingly, Draco took to such scarcities without complaint, his curiosity always winning out. They had worked alongside one another for five years already, and not once had he acted the part of the poncy little prick he’d once been. His hands were often covered in earth, his clothing stained around the knees from digging and excavating. 

“I would expect nothing less,” Draco told him, sighing as he and Hermione stood. 

Hermione caught Draco’s eye and he gave a subtle nod toward the door. She thanked Gibbard for his consideration and fell into step alongside her partner. “Any wagers on how full of shit Gibbard really is?” Draco asked, batting away a stray crimson paper plane on its way to a recipient. 

Hermione agreed with him, but sighed all the while. “Let’s not call him barmy just yet. We’ve found some pretty incredible artifacts. Maybe there’s something to this legend.”

Her lips turned into a frown as she watched a cupid, made from one giant bubble, shoot bubble arrows at passersby. Draco seemed to be just as turned off by the festivities. “I hate Valentine’s Day,” he commented under his breath. “Such an asinine holiday.”

“I couldn’t agree more. And Merlin forbid you’re single. Then you’re looked upon as a leper.”

Draco stopped right in front of the doors. “Would you like to accompany me, just to spite all of the happy couples, to the pub up the street? We can get pissed and mock all of the potential hook-ups we witness.”

She had been looking forward to going home to Crookshanks and a good book, thick covers and warm tea. Her feet ached from her heels and she had a terrible crick in her neck from taking notes for the better part of the day. There was just something in the way he looked at her, as though he  _ didn’t  _ want to go home, that made her pause and reconsider her night’s plans. “Better idea. How about we go back to my place and get comfortable?”

Loosening the knot of his tie as he rolled his shoulders, Draco tipped a finger in her direction. “Now  _ that  _ is an idea.”

o-o-o

“You did  _ not! _ ” Draco exclaimed, standing in Hermione’s kitchen as he popped open their third bottle of wine.

“I did!”

“I can’t even imagine that  _ oaf  _ knowing what to do with his prick,” he said loudly, turning to her and wrinkling his brow dramatically. “Hermy-own-ninny. I vant you to sit on my bulging Bulgarian broomstick!” he teased, mocking Viktor’s speech and playing up the dim quality of the Quidditch player.   
  


Hermione giggled, accepting a full glass from him and tucking her face behind the rim. “Needless to say, it was less than memorable.”

Draco snorted, tipping his glass in salutation. “If he fucks like he flies, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“I find most men to be wholly unsatisfying,” she commented, heat rising in her chest as she realized what she had just said. 

Draco raised a single brow. “Oh? Witches more your style?”

She swatted his arm, sloshing a little of her wine onto the tile floor, the deep plum liquid staining the grout between. “Of course not. I just meant that most men have no idea what they are doing. I can do it better myself!”

Now both of his brows were raised toward his hairline and she traced a gulp of wine down the center of his throat, her cheeks broiling with the flush of embarrassment. “Is that so?” he asked, a touch of pink meeting his own cheeks. 

Hermione groaned, planting a hand over her face as she tried to back track her statement. “I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. I mean...I just—”

She was stopped by a strong hand wrapping around her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face and yanking her into a firm surface. A firm, warm surface that felt like soft cotton over solid muscle. Tilting her head up to look at him quizzically, there was no time for her to formulate a coherent thought before his lips were on hers. 

_ “I need to know that there is absolutely no physical attraction between the two of you.” _

Gibbard’s words were a distant echo scratching at the far reaches of her brain as Draco’s tongue slid possessively over her bottom lip. Her hand, still within his and between them, slipped away and she drove it into his hair, her other hand still clutching lazily at her wine glass. Draco let out a low growl at the back of his throat as she deepened the kiss, pushing his hips back until he knocked against the countertop. 

As he slid a hand around her waist to pull her into him, she could feel how turned on he was by her moans and sighs. The realization hit Hermione and her eyes shot open. Backing away a few steps, she looked at him, shock and need written all over her features. “We can’t do this, Draco. We have too much riding on this expedition tomorrow.”

She, blessedly, left out the part where she would rather be  _ riding him,  _ an errant thought that she knew could never see the light of day. Running a finger over his bottom lip, he nodded curtly. “The expedition. Right. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

With that, he pushed past her and grabbed his suit coat and cloak from the back of the couch as he nearly ran to the floo. Hermione stared at his retreating back, her fingers clasped over her mouth in disbelief as she tried to slow her hammering chest and panting breaths.

o-o-o 

  
  


“This is pointless, Granger. Do you see the way they all look at us when we even mention the West side of the island?” Draco mentioned, aggravation settled deep in his voice. 

Already tiring of his petulance and his agitating ability to pretend nothing happened the night before, she stopped her gait and put her hands on her hips. “Yes. With  _ fear _ in their eyes. There is something daunting on the other side of this island. It is  _ our  _ duty to find out  _ what _ .” 

He sighed and pointed toward the end of the pier where a few fishermen were unloading crates of their loot. “If there are mermaids in the water, I’m willing to bet those men have seen them.”

He began walking down the pier, and Hermione followed, her eyes scanning the waterline for any sign of a disturbance here, a few miles from where the magic had grown wild. Questioning the locals was becoming a hassle, when no one would speak about the area they needed answers regarding. She was beginning to think they should just head toward the suspect area and ignore all warnings from the locals.

Draco sauntered up to the men and cleared his throat. His Greek was broken at best, completely wrong at worst. But he knew enough to coax some English from them.  _ “Atlantis?” _

Hermione joined them just as the closest man grasped at the byzantine cross around his neck. “Do not go. Evil.”

“Diávolos,” the other man replied, shaking his head. 

“Superstitious old codgers,” Draco whispered under his breath as they turned away and nearly jogged away from where the old men were reciting prayers at their backs. “We would be better off just heading toward the suspected site and just looking around ourselves.”

His mirrored thoughts had Hermione groaning, frustrated that an entire afternoon of attempted interviews had amounted to absolutely nothing. Her feet were beginning to hurt, and there was a slight chill in the February afternoon that had her shivering and in an unpleasant mood. “Fine. Let’s just go get settled in.”

After a quiet taxi ride, one in which Hermione heard the driver reciting what she believed to be the Lord’s Prayer under his breath, they pulled up along the oceanside. Draco passed some cash over the seat and they departed, all the while scanning the scenery. This part of the island was relatively uninhabited, with the closest homes and businesses tiny dots on the horizon. Hermione scrambled in her beaded bag, retrieving a gilded key. 

“I don’t see where this could possibly lead,” she remarked, looking around as they walked over bleached sands. Stripping her coat off, she noted how much warmer this part of Crete was. A drop of sweat slid down between her shoulder blades as she took a deep breath. 

Draco stepped in front of her, stopping her path in the middle of the shoreline. He tapped his wand to the key and it transfigured into a tent, popping obnoxiously alongside them. He threw his head back and groaned, pushing his moistening hair back. “A fucking  _ tent _ ? He couldn’t have gotten us a fucking seaside shanty, at least?” 

“Is it warm?” Hermione questioned, pulling her collar away from her neck as her blouse began to stick to her skin.

Draco’s brow furrowed deeply, his lips turned down into a frown. “Impossibly so.”

With that, he pushed aside the flaps of the tent’s entrance and pushed inside. Hermione followed, retrieving her own bag from her back pocket and enlarging it. The tent was tiny, two twin beds, a single nightstand, and a small bathroom the only accomodations within. 

She’d brought clothing for cooler weather and she was regretting this decision immediately. Draco was perched at the edge of his bed and he ripped his shirt up and over his head, tossing it into the open duffle bag by his feet. “If this is the adverse reaction Gibbard was speaking about, I have to admit, it’s a pain in the arse. It’s hotter here than it was in Egypt last month.”

Hermione was speechless as she stared in his direction, the sight of his bare chest making her mouth water. Images of their tipsy night prior crept into her mind, and she remembered exactly what his chest felt like, all chiseled rock under smooth cotton. With her temperature rising steadily, she turned away, embarrassed by the heat pooling between her thighs. She brought her hands up to unbutton her own blouse, peeling it off and leaving only her camisole. 

Draco’s bed creaked as he stood and began ambling slowly toward the entrance. She noticed the glance he made in her direction, the way his eyes lingered over her bust as he passed. 

She shortened her jeans with a simple spell, leaving the hem with a nearly immodest lack of length. Hermione knew they needed to hash out the events of the night before in order to safely and effectively move forward in their mission. She followed him out into the bright sunlight, trying to rehearse what to say to him but falling short. 

Draco stood, facing the ocean, with his hands out, palms parallel to the ground. “Do you feel that?”

Hermione closed her eyes, holding her hands in the same manner as she slowed near the ocean’s edge. Thrums of magic danced beneath her, quivering erratically. “The ley lines. They’re going haywire.”

“Exactly,” Draco opened his eyes, and Hermione noted that they were darker pewter than normal. “The energy coursing through them is powerful.  _ Erotic. _ ” 

And for the first time, Hermione noticed that the pulsating beneath her feet was radiating in her core.  _ We’re fucked. We didn’t listen to Gibbard and now we are so fucked.  _ Panic set in briefly, years of pining for the man next to her hitting her like a ton of bricks. Instead of just owning it and telling Malfoy that she harboured a ridiculous crush on him, she’d taken a dangerous chance. 

“We just have to ignore it,” she commented, licking along the seam of her lips as she watched him lazily tuck his fingertips into his trouser pockets. His lips pursed slightly and she could sense his displeasure at her statement.

His breathing was growing heavier as he eyed her, drawing his lip between his teeth. “What if we don’t ignore it, though? Give into it, just this once. We’re both very evidently turned on by the other. What harm could come from a romp before we get down to business?”

“I am not negotiating this,” she argued, trying to put on an affronted countenance, though every part of her was quivering with need.

Draco clicked his tongue, trying to appear as though he wasn’t devastatingly disappointed. “I don’t see anything awry out there,” he mentioned, his voice a low hum. “The mermaids aren’t coming close to shore yet. They’ll wait until nightfall.” His eyes scanned the skies above, no doubt notating that dusk would soon be approaching.

Hermione heard the words coming out of his mouth, faintly registered them somewhere in the confines of her memory for later dissection. At the current moment, all she could think about was the way he had tasted of merlot and peppermint the night before. “What was last night about, then?” she insisted, stepping in front of him so he had to look at her. 

Draco swallowed hard, his eyes searching her face as he carefully formulated a response. “Granger, it would seem that you and I have both made a very foolish mistake.”

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

He gave a soft snort and rolled his eyes. “The magic running uncontrolled in the ley lines—it’s playing on the attraction we both  _ clearly  _ have for each other. The locals think it’s dangerous because they can’t explain the power they feel. We should have told Gibbard the truth, because I have a feeling the magic will only get stronger by light of the moon. The Earth knows—it’s recognized within us what we couldn’t even begin to understand. Before long, the moon will recognize it, too.”

“The way you talk—it’s almost as if you are insinuating that the elements are aligning to form a Soulmate’s Coupling,” she accused, narrowing her eyes even as she felt the earth calling to them beneath her feet. 

Draco simply shrugged one shoulder and she continued looking at him though he carefully avoided her eyes. “When you close your eyes, do you feel the different elements at play here?”

Hermione closed her eyes, fighting to calm her racing mind as she tried to pick apart the separate aspects of magic. Beneath her, the earth was vibrating excitably, the sand around them jumping with the force of it. The air tasted salty from the ocean spray, but there was something else—something that tasted faintly of merlot and peppermint—niggling at her taste buds and making her throat slick with saliva. The ocean’s roar had dulled, nearly a whisper, lulling her, calling to her. And there were flames in her veins as the feel of his magic brushed against hers. Her eyes snapped open, her mouth open. 

“What have we done?” she questioned, her heart hammering wildly. 

What Draco was insinuating, what the earth was gently pushing, had life-altering implications. If he was correct, their feelings were far more than simple crushes. They belonged together, soulmates, twin flames. 

Draco ran a hand through his hair before smacking his palm against his thigh. “It could be good, Hermione.  _ We  _ could be good.” 

Against her better judgment, she silenced him by grabbing his pockets and jerking him forward until their bodies crashed together magnetically. The heat, which she had originally thought was a change in the air around them, came from within, scorching through her and fueling her sudden bravery. 

o-o-o

Draco had been in love with Granger as long as he could remember, his obsession bordering on near infatuation. He thought about her at the most inconvenient of times—when she was leading a meeting in one of her tight mini skirts—as well as in the moments when he was utterly lonely. She was everything he could possibly want or need in a witch, and the flame he carried in his heart burned fiercely for her. 

Pulling away, she turned and smiled at him demurely over her shoulder. It wasn’t often that the witch tried to act coquettish or flirtatious with him, but he knew that look. Her steps forward said “goodnight” but her eyes—Merlin, those gorgeous ocher orbs—sparkled and beckoned to him to act. Draco’s hand shot out and he grabbed Hermione around the wrist, pulling her back into his kiss.

Hermione let out a squeak of surprise, one he quickly swallowed as he moved to deepen the kiss immediately. One hand pulled her hips closer to him, his fingertips pressing into her soft curves harshly. The other hand tangled into her mass of curls, twisting her tresses around his fist to keep her lips steadfast to his. 

Granger dragged her tongue along his, teasing and tasting his mouth, her nails scraping along the planes of his abdomen. His muscles flexed in response and she gave an appreciative moan as she tucked her fingers into his belt loops and pulled him closer to her. His cock, already painfully pressing against the front of his trousers, was quickly enveloped in her tiny fist.

Draco broke the kiss, gasping for breath as he looked down to where Granger’s hand stroked through the fabric of his clothes. The fabric of the tent rustled in the breeze and the witch—that little fucking minx—looked at him with a smoldering gaze and pulled his face back to meet hers, leading him toward the entrance purposefully.

His longer legs carried him much faster and Granger tugged his hand to stop him mid-stride. An impish grin on her part nearly ruined him, a growl escaping from his throat. He looked down at her and his lips were on hers once more. He craved the taste of her, a drug he couldn’t shake. The island’s magic was making him feel positively feral. Draco grasped either side of her face, kissing her hard and swift. He began backing up once more, pulling her along with their lips connected, his hands in her hair, on her waist, skimming over the delectable golden skin where her tits peeked out of her camisole.

Granger’s hands snaked around his waist, making easy work of his belt as she kissed along his chest. His entire body vibrating with the need to touch his witch all over, to kiss every inch of her, to make her cry his name over and over until dawn broke.

Granger knotted her fingers into his hair in a way that made his scalp prickle. Her fingers were tickling along his heated flesh, leaving gooseflesh in their wake as she dragged her lips away from his and down along his jaw. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” she muttered, her hand once again stroking along his length.

Draco was thrilled at her admission, his entire body radiating pure elation. A shiver ran down his spine and he placed his hands on either side of her neck in an attempt to push her down onto the bed. “No,” Granger told him, pressing against his chest so she remained standing. 

Her head dipped into the crook of his neck and he felt the warmth of her tongue as it glided along his skin. He groaned, pressing her hips into his to alleviate some of the pressure in his trousers. Her hands deftly undid his button and zip and she made quick work of wrapping her hand around the length of his cock. His hands slid from her hips to the hem of that infernally thin camisole, sliding it up and exposing her bare chest. Licking and nibbling along the swell of her breast, he took a nipple into his mouth as he unzipped her shorts. He shoved his hands within the depths of the tiny denim scraps, cupping her arse as he lifted her up slightly. His hands squeezed harshly before sliding the garment to the floor. Draco was pleased to find she was wearing a pair of those lacy, skimpy knickers she had jokingly sworn off in past conversations. “I thought these were only for trollops?” he teased, staring unabashedly at her scantily clad form.

“Hush or you’ll never get inside of them,” she threatened weakly, her eyes closed as he traced down the length of her abdomen with a single fingertip.

Feeding into her challenge, he growled, “Is that so?” and pulled the lace with such force that they tore with a hiss. His animalism only fueled her further, and she bit along the pulse point on his neck.

Draco’s hand slid around the curve of her hip, the back of his knuckles tickling over her lower abdomen as he teased his way toward her warmth. His fingers slid into the slick seam of her cunt and he let out a low moan at the feel of her wrapping around his fingers so readily. At the feel of his ministrations, Granger stepped wider and suckled at the hollow of his neck, the pain causing a jolt of pleasure to go straight to his cock. Her hands went into the tops of his loose trousers, gliding over to grasp his arse, her fingernails biting into his flesh. He dipped his two middle fingers into her, pressing in a way that made her stop her assault on his throat and breathe his name. Her forehead dropped, against his collarbone and she was holding onto his sides to brace herself as she rose up on her toes, held in place by his hand. His thumb danced circles around her swollen clit, and her body quaked against him. “That’s a good girl. I want to feel that sweet little pussy of yours clench around my fingers. I want you to drip down my hand, because I’m going to taste you.”

His other hand pressed into her supple arse cheek, grasping it harshly. “Let go for me, love. Let me hear you say how good I make you feel.” 

Her fingers were digging into his sides, her breath falling in pants over his neck as she fell apart around him. He was certain that anyone who lived on the island could hear the rapturous way his name fell from her lips—a thought that made his cock throb with need. Her legs were shaking as she pushed back from his chest.

Draco grinned down at her flushed face as she smiled dazedly up at him, lightly running her fingers over his skin, causing gooseflesh once more. He gave her dripping cunt a single swipe more and raised his glistening fingers to his lips, tasting her as promised, before Granger brought her lips to the base of his throat, kissing down over his chest, lowering to her knees as she did. His brain was screaming incoherently in his head, every ounce of energy he had focused on that fact that this was really happening. He was touching her in ways he had only ever imagined. Tasting her.

He brought his hand from his mouth to twist into her hair and barely had time to register what was transpiring before she pulled his trousers and pants down. His cock sprang forth, solid as steel as he wrapped a hand around it and allowed the pressure to ease his aching desire. Granger looked up at him from where she knelt, the lustful look in her eye causing his cock to pulse in his hand. Maintaining eye contact, she wrapped her hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away to rest by his side. “You think that pretty little mouth of yours can suck me off?” he teased, igniting a fire in her eye as she never backed down from a challenge.

“I’ll have you begging for more,” Granger retorted, her eyes still locked on his as she bent forward to give the underside of him a swipe of her tongue.

Her eyes closed as she came back to the head, her tongue swirling around it before his length was enveloped in the wet warmth of her mouth. She gave a few tentative dips of her head as she found a rhythm and her fingernails raked against the insides of his thighs as she curled her hands around his legs. When she felt brave enough to take him fully into her mouth, he felt his tip reach the soft back of her throat. She went to full capacity a few more times, and it was so fucking delicious. His head dropped back against the door and he wished there was something behind him to lean against because he wasn’t certain he could fully support his own weight much longer. 

“Is that the best you can do, Granger?” he asked, though he was already beginning the slow loss of control. 

The hum from the back of her throat vibrated through his cock and made him shiver. The sight of her knickers, ripped around her calves and shining with her earlier desire, brought along visions of him peeling them away from her with his teeth. Her hand came up to wrap around his length, her mouth and hand working in tandem and creating the most sinfully pleasurable feel. When her other hand came up to cup and knead him, he flinched away, worried he was losing control far too quickly. 

Draco tugged at her hair and she opened her eyes, releasing him with a wet  _ pop! _ “What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?” Granger asked, frowning as she looked at him still hard at eye level.

“No, you’re too bloody perfect,” he rumbled lowly as he helped her to her feet, kissing her as soon as her lips came into reach. 

With a deep groan of impatience rolling through his chest, Draco dropped his face to place hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder as his hands palmed and kneaded each breast. The back of her legs touched the bed’s edge. “Get on the bed, on your stomach,” he instructed, biting his lip as she glanced down at the blankets.

Draco was happily surprised to find that she was less stubborn when instructed in the bedroom, quivering with excitement and desire. The sexy little witch crawled onto the bed, giving him the most glorious view of her arse and slick pussy. Biting his lip to keep from groaning at the sight, he waited until she had lowered onto her belly before he climbed up after her. Straddling her sides, his cock brushing tantalizingly up the curve of her backside, he leaned on one arm and brushed her curls over one shoulder as she lay her head over her crossed arms and looked at him from her peripheral. Brushing her hair around to one side, ready to kiss along her shoulder blades, he noticed a small stain at the base of her neck. A runic moon glyph. The first quarter moon.  _ Decision-making.  _ He huffed a laugh under his breath at the sight.

“I’ve wanted this for years, waited patiently for this. I imagined our first time to be slow, romantic, purposeful,” he began, tickling his lithe finger over her bare shoulder. 

Granger let out a small whimper of protest at his words and he moved his hips once more so that his length teased the apex of her thighs. “Draco, please—”

“Let me finish, kitten,” he purred, lowering his lips to kiss just below her ear. “There will be plenty of time for slow love making later. But for now, I want to fuck you. I want to eat that tantalizing cunt and then bury myself so deep into you that you can’t walk when I’m through with you.”

Granger sighed and her eyes fluttered closed at his words, a devilishly wicked grin spreading over her lips. Draco smirked down at her, the magic coursing through him vibrating with anticipation already. “I take that naughty little smile to mean you’re more than okay with my plans for you?” 

She moved one hand out from under her cheek and lifted it to caress his cheek, moving to kiss him over her shoulder. Draco rolled away from her and onto his back beside her, extending his arm so she would follow. His hands guided her hips to his and she quickly scrambled to straddle his hips, bending to kiss him. “Come up here and take hold of the headboard,” he instructed her lightly, using his hands to run over her thighs and urge her further up his body.

“Draco, you don’t—” her voice was cut off as his tongue ran the length of her. “Fucking hell.”

Her face dropped to stare at him and he gave her a cheeky wink before he closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the heavenly scent and taste that was her. Granger held onto the headboard with one hand and ran the other through his hair. His hands ran over her hips, which were slowly gyrating over his face as she became engulfed in the sensations he brought her. Dipping his tongue into her, she brought the hand that was in his hair to rest shoulder width apart from her other on the headboard. 

Draco licked lazily at her seam once more before he brought his mouth up to her swollen bud. He sucked on it lightly, grazing it with his teeth and she let out a short  _ ah! _ as he did. When his tongue swirled around it and he began to lick and lave at it, creating just the right pressure, she let out a sultry little purr and he opened his eyes to find her looking down at him once more. Her hands were roaming over her own flesh and he watched as she ran her hands up, over her ribs and cupped her own tits beautifully. She rolled her nipples between her fingers, pinching them until they became firmly taut and he felt his cock jump a little at the sight of her touching herself. 

Draco could feel her walls beginning to clench and he knew she was close, bearing down on him as she hovered as delicately as she could. He used his hands to brace her thighs on either side of his head so he could still easily breath, and continued working his mouth and tongue around her clit. Her pleas of “More, please, Draco, more!” echoed in his mind as he felt her clench and her thighs tighten around his head slightly. She pulsed above him and he licked once more at the sweetness that dripped onto his lips and chin.

Granger made an incoherent noise and he tapped her thighs so she would lift up. Draco scooted down the bed and out from under her, rising up behind her as she put her head against her arm and held into the headboard as though it were the only thing keeping her from turning to a puddle. He snaked a hand around her neck to rest over her throat and pulled her face up to kiss her. Her juices were still on his lips, a fact that seemed to turn her on as she kissed him vehemently, licking at the slickness on his face.

This witch was going to be the end of him. He just knew it. Everything she did was bringing him one step closer to ruin. Draco ran the head of his cock along her sensitive seam, teasing her clit for a moment and causing her to shudder, before he lined up with her opening. Granger parted her legs infinitesimally and he let out a gruff groan at the way she brushed against him. Unable to hold back any longer, Draco grabbed her waist and brought her hips back toward his, sheathing himself in her heat. He hissed through clenched teeth as she began to move, urging him to create a pace and rhythm. 

He clenched her hip with one hand and pressed her back into himself with his other hand on her shoulder. Both were slick with perspiration, and Granger’s body was flushed scarlet from her orgasms. He brought the hand from her shoulder to her hair, twisting it in his fist once more and giving it a tug, bringing her up so he could lick at her bare shoulder. Draco grazed her skin with his teeth, biting down as she moaned loudly. With every thrust he was hitting the soft place within her, driving her closer to the edge before the shock waves had even let off from her last orgasm.

His hands were all over her body, rubbing at the slick surfaces of her curves, over her flat abdomen. He pinched her nipple roughly, eliciting a mewl from the back of her throat and she moved her hips more rapidly in response. Draco snapped into her, his hip bones knocking into her arse with every deep thrust. One of her hands was still wrapped around the headboard, her knuckles turning white as her other hand come to rub her over sensitized sex. 

Here she was, touching herself again and it was driving Draco wild. He made up his mind right then that he would request she touch herself as he snapped a million photographs. He wanted to watch those petite, well-manicured fingers dip into her own body, to run the slick over herself until her eyes rolled back in her head. With that image burning behind his eyelids, “Oh, God!” repeatedly falling from her lips, and her walls tightening around him, Draco finally found his release. Thrusting his hips bruisingly into her arse, he spilled his warm load into her, groaning loudly as he did. “You’re fucking amazing, Granger,” he whispered, lowering his face to kiss between her shoulder blades. 

He pulled out of her, both slick with the evidence of their desires and he bit his lip at the sight of it dripping down her thighs. Granger turned where she was, tossing her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a sweet kiss on their knees. “I want this again. Every night,” she murmured into his neck, resting as her breathing returned to normal.

“And every morning,” he vowed, kissing the top of her curls.

She pulled back, her eyes tracing the trail down his arm to where a small black spot marred his skin. “A first quarter moon glyph,” she whispered, noticing it for the first time now that the haze of lust had lifted. “Forgiveness. How fitting.”

“We really are two halve of the whole, Granger,” he mentioned as he ran his knuckles lightly over her cheek, his actions now tender with the passing of their heated encounter. “The Soulmate’s Coupling...it’s a ritual of sorts. We gave in to it. Our two halves played off one another, and our magic. It’s—”

“Intertwined,” she finished, smiling widely at the turn of events. “I’ve always felt there was more there...I just never knew how to broach the subject.”

Draco placed a finger over her lips, covering her smile with one of his own in a chaste kiss. “It’s all behind us now. We can be together now.”

As his senses began to return to normal, the ringing in his ears dissipated. From beyond the tent, he no longer heard the crashing of waves or the cry of a gull. The quietude served to momentarily calm his singing nerves. That is, until the serenity became far too unsettling. “Do you hear that?”

Granger hummed, still slightly dazed as she cocked an ear toward the tent’s entrance. “No, I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.”

With that, he slid off of the bed and went toward the beach. Night had fallen and the shoreline outside of their tent had transformed. Draco’s mouth fell open as he glanced around, taking in huge stone structures, gold and gems twinkling in the moonlight. The shore lapped lazily against limestone steps at the tent’s edge. In the water, beautiful beings swam playfully, unabashed by their nudity. 

“Draco,” Granger’s voice was a mere whisper next to him. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Draco sighed, lacing his fingers with hers. “Gibbard’s leverage.”

o-o-o

  
  
  
  



End file.
